


Victims of war

by Ghelik



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Rosaline sneaks into the dungeon to speak with Benvolio.





	Victims of war

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 1x06

Sneaking into the palace’s dungeons shouldn’t be this easy, thinks Rosaline as she puts the stolen key into the door to Benvolio’s cell.

 

It groans open and she hurries inside, closing it behind her back before turning to the man sitting against the far wall. He is slumped to the side, his arms stretched over his head, secured with heavy chains. He raises his head when she steps closer, and for a moment she can see a hundred warring emotions in his big gray eyes. Then he blinks, and it’s all gone hidden behind a hideous mask of cold, murderous anger. He sits very still, back straight and legs folded but not pressed against his chest.

 

Rosaline takes a tentative step forward. He’s no longer gagged, his fine-lipped mouth set instead into a thin white line. Benvolio has every right to hate her right now.

 

“I brought you water?” she offers bringing forth the skin hanging from her shoulder.

 

“Why are you here?” his voice is hoarse and cracks a little. “Come to gloat?”

 

“I need to explain?” she sounds unsure even to her own ears.

 

He snorts and stubbornly turns his face away from the water she’s offering. “There’s nothing to explain, Capulet.”

 

“Yes, there is!”

 

Rosaline kneels beside him her knees touching his, she doesn’t notice her hand has fallen on his thigh until he jerks away.

 

“You managed to slip the marriage. Probably managed to get the prince to marry you, now that I’ve sullied your reputation…”

 

“That is not…”

 

Benvolio’s head snaps towards her, eyes glinting with so much anger and pain and raw betrayal she feels herself burning with shame.

 

“I should have known better than to trust a Capulet bitch.”

 

“Paris has my sister!” she shouts, and he visibly flinches. For a moment Rosaline is sure he’s going to brush that aside. To accuse her of lying or dismissing the threat to Livia’s life. Why should he care about a Capulet anyway?

 

Instead, Benvolio leans his head back against the stone wall he’s chained to. “We were surrounded by Paris’ men. They would have killed us all. And it wouldn’t have cleared your name. It would’ve only dragged it recovered.”

 

“What do you care about my family’s name, Capulet?”

 

“I don’t. I care about Escalu’s life. And I care about you.” She adds reluctantly, because it’s true and, even though she’s not sure she’ll be able to save his life, but she needs him to know. “And it’s the truth. Benvolio, please, you have to believe me.”

 

She tries not to notice that she’s put her hand on the side of his face. Or that he’s leaning into the touch. She tries not to notice the blood on his stubble, the black bruise under his left eye.

 

“What do we do now?”

 

Rosaline bows her head, her hand falling down to her lap. She tries not to notice the pitiful whimper that leaves his throat. “I don’t know.”

 

“You have the ear of the King and Princess Isabella” he offers softly.

 

“Why did you come to the camp?” Rosaline asks instead of explaining Paris’ well-planned intrigues, the spies and the fact that, even though she’s supposedly in the city's safest place, she can’t sleep, can’t help being terrified and…

 

“I noticed they weren’t Verona’s guards. I… I couldn’t.” Benvolio clears his throat and shifts. His thigh is now pressed from hip to knee to hers. Rosaline tries to concentrate on his words instead. “I couldn’t leave you alone with him. I…” He closes his eyes and leans his head back again. He stares at the ceiling when he finishes. “I am sorry I dragged you into this, Rosaline.”

 

“Don’t be.” Her hand falls once again on his thigh, just above the knee pressed to her side. That brings his eyes back to her. Just like they should be. “I… You gave me a choice, Benvolio. And I took the right one. I chose the truth.” She says, because ‘I chose you’ feels too dangerous to admit. “I could have let you go on your own. God knows you wouldn’t be here if it weren't for me.”

 

“I also would never have found out about Paris, or your aunt, or the monk’s deadly poison.”

 

“No. But you would be in Rome by now. Far away from this mess. You wouldn’t be publicly executed.”

 

Benvolio tries for a smile. “Ah, but I am a good-for-nothing Montague. Without money,  title or real craft I would’ve surely starved. So, at least I won’t suffer a long agonizing death.”

 

“Is that supposed to be any sort of comfort! If you die tomorrow, it will be only because I...”

 

The chains crack loudly when he pushes forward, but what startles her is not the sound, but the feeling of his lips warm and soft on hers. It’s awkward because the angle is all wrong and he’s tied to the wall, and her head was slightly turned.

 

Her body moves on its own to correct the angle, leaning into the heat of his mouth, hands burying into his short curls, cupping his stubbled jaw. She chases his lips, relishing in the taste and the smell of him lingering just under the sweat and blood.

 

When they come up for air, his eyes are round and childlike, shining with wonder. An invisible hand seems to squeeze Rosaline's heart when she falls into his gaze.

 

“I won’t let them kill you,” she says, even though she has no idea how she’s going to accomplish that. “I pro-“

 

“Don’t” he nuzzles the hand still against his cheek. “Don't make promises you can’t keep.”

 

His words seem to echo in her mind the next morning. Benvolio’s kneeling with his hands behind his back, face impassive, eyes trained on her and only her. They push him forward, and he smiles encouragingly from across the square as the blade descends, impossibly quick. Rosaline can’t look away. The world seems to stand still for half an eternity. 

 Benvolio’s lifeless body’s pushed off the guillotine.

**Author's Note:**

> As always this was unbetad
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting :D


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